


build me a home in you

by megeggsalad



Series: safety (i find it in you) [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Divorce, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, SHIT ALSO, a character is outed without their consent, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged, the first few are basically just the trigger warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:29:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megeggsalad/pseuds/megeggsalad
Summary: “You’re safe here, you know. I mean, like--this can be your home, if you want, just for right now. Or, um, however long you want to stay.”Mitch kisses Auston’s chest, and then reaches up to kiss his lips.“I think I’ll stay for a while, if that’s okay,” he whispers, and the way Auston kisses him tells him that it is.





	build me a home in you

**Author's Note:**

> me, looking at all the prompts and commissions i haven't finished yet: um
> 
> hi. i hope you like this. you don't technically have to read the first part to understand this, but like. i really, really would.
> 
> and you know this, because i told you in more words or less, but luka, this is for you. i love you so much.

Mitch loves Dylan so much it hurts, sometimes.  


Other times, though--other times Mitch sort of just wants to, like, slap him in the face a little. Just a little.  


Like, for example, when he puts hot sauce on his bagel, because that’s a totally normal, human thing to do, and wouldn’t taste as absolutely as disgusting as it looks. Dylan looks a little tired, though, and they are college students, so Mitch figures he’ll just kinda let Dylan’s weird breakfast habits be what they are, for now.  


“Long night?” Mitch asks, because when he isn’t chirping Dylan for all he’s worth, he does like to be a good best friend. He keeps his voice soft, because for all Dylan pretends to be a bro, he really, really needs some softness in his life. Luckily, Mitch is good at that.  


“Yeah,” Dylan says, gruff, but his shoulders relax a little, so Mitch knows he’s said the right thing. He worries, sometimes, that he’s not--he’s not what Dylan needs him to be. That he’s not a good enough best friend, that one day, Dylan will just give up--because Mitch knows he considers it, some days--and it’ll be Mitch’s fault, because Mitch could’ve done more, said more, been there more, and wasn’t.  


Mitch reaches over and runs a hand through Dylan’s hair, trying not to mess up his curls. They’re tactile, for friends, but that’s okay. Mitch likes it, and he thinks Dylan does, too. He looks in vain for any single sign of displeasure or any lack of consent on Dylan’s part, because even though they’re small touches, Mitch knows that’s still important.  


“Do you want to talk about it later?” he asks, because Dylan looks too fresh with whatever he’d dreamt now, and they both have classes to get to in twenty minutes anyways.  


Dylan’s face is expressionless, which means he has no idea how to answer. He finally settles for, “Maybe, Mitchy,” and Mitch makes sure to give his shoulders a squeeze before he gets up to go.  


***  


Mitch has always loved to talk. His mom likes to joke that he said his first word, figured out there were more, and never stopped talking after that. He’d feel a little bad, maybe, but it’s true, first of all, and second, he’s pretty sure his mom loves him more than anything else in the world. He’d say that about Chris, too, but Chris has been out of the house for a while now, and Mitch was all she had to focus on, for a while.  


He calls her almost every day. Well, no--they text a lot, but he calls her closer to two or three times a week, but that’s still a lot. He knows he’d get shit for it, if people knew, but he doesn’t really care.  


Anyway, Mitch has loved talking since he was a baby, so it makes sense, at least in his head, that he’d be into linguistics.  


Language has always fascinated him. The idea of it, the concept of it, how it came to be, if it’s genetic or not--Mitch has always wanted to either prove or disprove that. He doesn’t know that he has an opinion on it, but his linguistics professor, Professor Rielly, has really, really strong opinions about it.  


“I just don’t see how the instinct for language couldn’t be genetic,” he’s saying to Mitch, because Mitch is That Kid--and he knows he’s That Kid--that stays after class a lot to talk to and debate with a professor. “All instincts are genetic at some level, right?”  


“I think so,” Mitch says, because as much as he loves language, he’s always been a bit murky on all things science.  


“Jake thinks it’s something else,” Rielly says, “but I just--I really think it’s genetic.”  


That’s--that’s it, right there. Why he stays after. Why he talks to Professor Rielly at all.  
Jake is his husband. Mitch isn’t really sure what he does, but the professor has pictures of the two of them scattered throughout his office, and talks about Jake all the time in class. Mitch knows that they’ve been married for about two years, that Jake doesn’t work at the school, that they foster senior dogs together and Professor Rielly is upset every single time one of them gets sick or has to move on, and that he and Jake eat lunch together every Wednesday and Friday.  


It’s not that Mitch expects anything of Professor Rielly because he’s married to a man, it’s just--it’s just nice to be around someone like him, is all. Someone who made it, someone who found their happy ending, so to speak.  


“Maybe it’s both,” Mitch says. “Maybe a gene gives us the ability to have the instinct to pick up on language.”  


The way Professor Rielly’s eyes widen is almost comical, and Mitch can’t help but smile. He still loves impressing his professors, and probably always will. He sometimes forgets that he’s--well, he forgets that he’s really, really smart.  


“Excellent thoughts, Mitch,” his professor says, shaking his head a little. “I can’t wait until you graduate. You’ll have to come sit down with some of my colleagues and I, share your opinions--they’re very, very interesting, for sure.”  


Mitch walks back to the dorm twenty minutes later practically glowing. Dylan even lets Mitch tackle him a little, which is always really fun, and means Dylan’s happy, too.  


Mitch loves it when they’re both happy. He loves seeing a smile on Dylan’s face, loves laughing in their room with him, loves making a blanket fort between their beds.  


He just--he loves his best friend.  


Yeah.  


***  


Somehow, Auston Matthews walks into his life and invites himself to stay.  


Mitch is in the library with Dylan, who he knows is getting steadily more annoyed with him. He feels bad, because he knows Dylan needs to study, but for some reason, his new Spanish words aren’t sticking in his head, and the new conjugation of verbs he learned yesterday isn’t sticking either, and he has a test tomorrow, and like--he’s always been more of an auditory learner, so he mutters the words to himself and hopes Dylan resists the urge to do him bodily harm.  


“I wish I knew how…” Mitch mutters in Spanish, trying to get the conjugation right,and then--  


“To speak fluent Spanish?” Another soft voice finishes his sentence for him, and Mitch’s head flies up, and--  


Wow.  


Okay, and Mitch knows that, like, maybe this guy isn’t everyone’s type, because even Mitch can see that he needs a different haircut with the forehead he has, but like--he’s looking at Mitch with this soft, soft smile, and his eyes are a little curious and maybe a little hopeful, too, and Mitch--well. Mitch was always weak for nice eyes, anyways.  


There’s an exchange between the guy and Dylan, and Mitch registers that he’s Connor’s friend, and his name is Auston, and he’s coming to sit down next to Mitch, and oh god, he was not prepared for this. He looks at Dylan, who very pointedly looks away, and then looks at Dylan again, a little more pleading, this time. Dylan just looks down to his own textbook, and Mitch realizes this is probably payback for being so damn annoying earlier.  


Well. Mitch won’t say he doesn’t deserve this, a little.  


He tells Auston he’s minoring in Spanish and French, and Auston lights up. He isn’t a linguistics major, he’s an English major--”What are you going to do with that degree, teach?” Mitch jokes, and Auston actually laughs--but he’s also just really into language, and Mitch can understand that.  


His mother was born in Mexico, Auston tells him, so he grew up speaking both English and Spanish, and studied Latin in high school for the fun of it.  


“I love Latin,” Mitch whispers, and Auston laughs, quietly.  


“It certainly helped on the SAT,” Auston says, and that right there tells Mitch about how good his teacher was. Latin is only fun if you have a good teacher, but sadly, there aren’t many of those out there for that particular language any more.  


Mitch’s teacher--she’d loved the language, and the culture too, both the modern Italian culture and the Ancient Roman. She was young, and excited, and taught the best AP class Mitch had ever taken.  


Mitch doesn’t know how, but somehow, Auston helps the words make more sense, and they eventually have to move to a louder floor so they don’t disturb the people around them. Auston keeps laughing at the things he says, and Mitch doesn’t know if he’s all that funny, or if he just keeps saying stupid things. It keeps a smile on Auston’s face, though, and Mitch loves his smile, so he doesn’t really care much.  


Auston invites him out for lunch, after he’s taken his test, so Mitch can tell Auston how it went.  


There is not a world in which he would ever have said no.  


***  


“Mom, I met a boy.”  


He stares at the phone in his hand and wishes he could say it. She might be happy for him, he thinks. She might ask about Auston’s eyes, or his family, or how the way he laughs makes Mitch weak in the knees.  


And Mitch might tell her that Auston’s eyes are beautiful, that he has a mother from Mexico whom he loves very much, and that Auston is quiet but deeply, deeply intelligent, and the quietness just covers up this incredible passion--for English, for Spanish, for learning--for the whole world around them, Mitch sort of suspects.  


“Mom, I might have a crush on a boy.”  


It’s--it’s not a long sentence, by any means. And it shouldn’t hurt to think, but it does, because Mitch can never forget the way kids in high school looked at him and called him--  


Called him horrible, horrible things. Spat at him. Shoved him into lockers, no matter that he had a girlfriend. He’ll never forget that.  


And he knows she loves him. Knows she’d probably be okay with the fact, and might even suspect, that he’s bi. But he just--  


“Mom, I really, really like boys.”  


He can’t forget.  


***  


Coming out to Dylan was easy, effortless, but that was mostly because Dylan came out first.  


“You should know that I’m gay,” Dylan says, almost the moment he meets Mitch, “and I have no plans on being in the closet, or whatever, so, like. Yeah.”  


It makes Mitch laugh, a little, and he tells Dylan he’s bi, and then they cuddle, and they’re pretty much instantly friends. Mitch doesn’t have the passion Dylan has behind his opinions on literature, but he has them, because any kid who’s taken one single high school lit class has some, and he and Dylan agree on a lot of things, so there’s that.  


They just--they work, really well. Mitch takes a minute or two, in the beginning, to wonder about them, and wonder what if, but just as quickly, the minute’s gone, and no, that’s not really them at all.  


It’s just, like--Mitch loved his high school friends. Still loves them. He talks to Cliff and Dvo on the regular, and their hockey team still has a groupchat, and he’ll never, ever be able to repay them for the way they rallied around him, but he’s never clicked with anyone the way he’s clicking with Dylan. He thinks maybe if they weren’t living together, it would be a little harder, but that doesn’t really matter, because they are living together, and it’s not that hard at all.  


So he gives Dylan hugs and tells him he deserves them, and sees the shadows in Dylan’s eyes when he says shit like that, and it hurts him. He’s always a little surprised how much Dylan’s sadness hurts him, because he wants it to go away. He doesn’t want Dylan to hurt, at all, ever--he wants him to be safe, and warm inside, and know he’s loved, and feel safe enough to give love in return.  


It makes Mitch cry, sometimes, because he loves Dylan so, so much. He just wants him to be okay.  


So when Dylan meets Connor McDavid, it’s both a blessing and a curse.  


Connor is so, so nice. He has a kind smile and kind hands--which is a phrase Dylan used, once, to describe Connor’s hands, and it fit, so Mitch uses it all the time, now. Connor McDavid is one of the most genuine people Mitch has ever met, and you know, the instant you meet him, that if his hands are reaching for you, they want to help, not hurt. There’s a safety to being around him, and Mitch really, really likes that.  


They have French together, and Connor sort of sucks at it, so Mitch helps him, sometimes. He thought, in passing, of introducing the two of them, but he’d wanted Dylan to himself, for a while.  


But Connor makes Dylan so, so happy, so. Blessing and a curse.  


Mitch thinks it’s possible to fall in friend-love with someone.  


Mitch thinks, if that’s true, that he’s definitely in friend-love with Dylan.  


***  


Auston Matthews shows up to their coffee--date? Get together? Activity?--wearing a shirt with little cacti all over it, and Mitch almost snorts the latte he’s sipping out of his nose. It’s perfect, somehow, and when Auston tells Mitch he bought it because he’s from Arizona and it makes him think of home, Mitch smiles into his coffee and takes another drink to hide it.  


“I did okay on my test, I think,” Mitch says, and Auston raises an eyebrow.  


“I think you did great, and you’re just one of those people who’s way too hard on themselves about grades,” Auston says, and, like--  


Mitch cried over his history grade last night. He likes history--even loves it, sometimes. He really, really wants to do well, and they have this essay to write, but it’s like, a group essay, which for some reason, his professor thought would be a good idea. And Dylan came home from meeting his friends, Max and Duke, for dinner, and then immediately had to spend about twenty minutes hugging Mitch and getting him to calm down, so--Auston’s pretty right, about the grades thing. Especially since he has a 98 in history right now, and his group is pretty smart, so it’s not likely to go down, like, at all.  


But Mitch just shrugs in response, and even though Auston looks a little sad at that, and like he wants to talk more, he doesn’t say anything else, because apparently he’s good at reading Mitch’s nonverbal cues, which, like, really, really sucks, because Mitch thought this would just be a passing crush but nope, apparently Auston Matthews not only has an adorable smile, but is a sweetheart as well.  


“Why’d you really major in English?” Mitch asks, instead of thinking about that, or literally anything else.  


Auston lights up, and Mitch’s heart hurts with it.  


“Reading is--it’s like coming home,” he says, and for some reason, Mitch feels like he wants to cry. He smiles, though, and gestures for Auston to continue. “I played hockey when I was a kid, up until, like, high school, and I’d always have a book with me, you know? At first, it was because we couldn’t afford the fancy gadgets everyone else had--hockey was what I did, and there was never much room for anything else, financially--so I brought books. And when I missed my mom on roadies or when I was staying with a billet family, I’d call her and she’d get out Harry Potter and read to me. I guess she’d read it to me when I was younger, or something, when it first came out. Either way, I love that series. And that’s, like--I want to do that, for a kid. I want to write, or publish, or something, the next series like that, so when a kid is sad or lonely, they can feel like they’re coming home when they read my book.”  


“Oh,” is all Mitch can say, and it sounds small and choked. He just--his stomach is filled with warmth right now, and the way Auston talks about what he wants to do, it’s just--it’s so passionate, so real and true and genuine, that it makes Mitch want to cry. Again.  


Auston’s expression falters, and he looks a little guilty. “Too much, right?”  


“No!” Mitch’s voice is almost too loud, in the little cafe, but this is important. “No, of course not. No, I just--I’m glad you have something you love that much. That you’re, I don’t know. That you’re passionate about. Like that.”  


“Oh,” Auston says, and that little, pleased smile is back on his face. “Don’t you have that? I mean, like, you’re a linguistics major? Right?”  


“Yeah,” Mitch says, and remembers how much he loves what he does. “Yeah, I absolutely do.”  


And then he talks for about fifteen minutes about the history of speech and emerging speech patterns in modern day cultures because of technology and text speak, and Auston seems actually interested in what he’s saying, asking questions and offering opinions, and, like--it’s good.  


It’s really, really good.  


***  


When Mitch was little, he fell in love with skating. The first time his parents put him on the ice, he fell down about a million times, but the instant they were in the car on the way home, he was asking when they’d be back.  


He still loved it. There was nothing like it. Even when he’s neck deep in a linguistics debate, or when he finally understands something that’s been stumping him about a new language, or when it’s 3 in the morning and he hasn’t slept in over 24 hours because he’s got three papers due in two days and he’s only started two of them, and even then just barely--point is, nothing compares. Nothing ever will, he thinks.  


And then someone put a hockey stick in his hands, and he was just--gone. He was gone, he was done, there was nothing else. He did well in minor midgets, but he was small. And that was okay, Mitch thought. He’d get to high school and impress on that team, and maybe get drafted into the O, or one of the other development leagues.  


And he was so, so close.  


He started dating Steph the beginning of sophomore year. She was incredible, and smiled like no one else he’d ever met, and his mom loved her almost as much as he did. It was perfect, really, and she was--she was everything, and he’ll always feel like he didn’t give her enough, even though the way they broke up was probably more amicable than any other breakup he’s ever seen in his life, between teenagers or adults. She still texts, and they call sometimes, because he thinks they’ll always be a little important to each other, that way.  


Around Christmas sophomore year, he--well, it was sort of out of the blue. He was scrolling through an online Christmas catalogue, trying to find something for his mom, and just--  


He just thought: what if I’m bi?  


And then Christmas happened, and he forgot it for a day or so, but then--then it wouldn’t get out of his head. He called Cliff, told him what he could manage without feeling sick, and Cliff helped him work out a few things. They were both technically meathead jock hockey boys, but Cliff was actually really helpful.  


“Dude,” he’d said. “You can still love Steph and figure out the whole ‘attracted to guys’ thing. You still like girls, as a whole, right? Same thing, man.”  


And Mitch had realized how completely right he was. Him liking boys was just--it was just what it was. He talked to Steph, and they really, genuinely had been completely fine.  


It was really good, for a while. He wanted to tell Chris, but he was always busy, in a new city with a new job, but that was okay, he’d thought at the time. They’d see each other eventually, and then they could talk about it.  


And it was all good, and all fine, until--  


Well. Until it wasn’t.  


***  


Mitch tells Auston how much he loves skating, when they’re studying together, one day. He says in it Spanish, because, y’know, studying, but Auston full-stops, and just gapes at him a little.  


“What?” Mitch asks, looking down at his shirt, because, like, what if there’s something on it? Oh, god, he is half in love with Auston Matthews and they are studying together and there is something on his shirt--  


“You--I told you I played hockey! And you didn’t say anything!” Auston doesn’t really sound mad, but Mitch’s face warms.  


“Oh,” he says. “I guess I didn’t.” He doesn’t consciously remember not saying anything, but he probably didn’t. He was a little overwhelmed by all of Auston’s, like--his presence, Mitch thinks is the right word.  


“There’s a rink on campus,” Auston says, his eyes twinkling.  


“I know, we’re in Canada, of course there is,” Mitch says, and it makes Auston laugh.  


“Skate with me,” Auston says, and Mitch’s heart about explodes. “Like, in the morning when you don’t have an early class, or maybe some afternoons--I’m sorry if this is weird,” he breaks off at the end, as if realizing that this could, somehow, potentially creep Mitch out.  


“It’s not weird at all,” Mitch says, and his voice is too soft.  


“Okay,” Auston says, and that’s that.  


So they go skating together, and it’s really, really fun, and somehow that turns into working out together, which happens about three times a week, and it’s--it’s so, so good.  
Auston, he--he makes Mitch so happy.  


He doesn’t realize he hasn’t said anything about it to Dylan until he comes home from a workout with Auston one afternoon with a smile on his face so wide it almost hurts.  


And so Dylan says, “How was the date with Auston?” There’s teasing in his voice, but he’s also serious, and they’re not--like that. They aren’t. Yet.  


Mitch hopes it’s okay to use that word. Yet.  


So that’s what he says. “It’s not like that.”  


Dylan actually laughs at him. “Please, Mitchy, I see the way you look at him. It’s like that at least a little bit.”  


He sits on the bed next to Dylan and just says, “He makes me so happy, Dyls.”  


Dylan absolutely does not look like he’s going to cry. “That’s so, so good, Mitch.”  


Mitch flops on his back, and Dylan lays down with him. Mitch grabs his hand and squeezes it, because they’re cool like that.  


“He played hockey when he was a kid,” Mitch says, staring at the ceiling. “He has two sisters who still live in Arizona. He really, really loves his mom.”  


That last thing seems to make Dylan a little sad, but he says, “Keep him.”  


“I hope,” Mitch says.  


Dylan looks at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.  


What he says is this: “You deserve the world, Mitchy. Not just the world, even. You deserve every solar system in the sky.”  


Mitch loves Dylan so, so much.  


***  


When Dylan tells Mitch he tried to kill himself, Mitch’s heart shatters.  


Mitch knew Dylan didn’t call home. Knew he didn’t really have a relationship with his family, just based on the things he’d picked up, but he could never have imagined--  


And then Dylan tells Mitch he’s in love with Connor, and Mitch knows. Mitch knows that, so he tells Dylan so, and Dylan just nods, and then Mitch holds him, and Mitch is so, so sad.  


He is thinking: I love you, I love you, I love you, I am so glad you are here with me, I am so glad you failed, I am so glad you are alive, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.  


He is thinking: Dylan, Dylan, Dylan.  


He is feeling Dylan’s heart beat against his skin and feeling Dylan’s tears against his skin and thinking: I love you.  
Connor shows up, because that’s what Connor does, and Mitch loves him for that, and when he takes Dylan to do whatever will make Dylan feel better, because Connor’s good at that, he feels like he can’t breathe.  


He doesn’t really know why he calls Auston.  


“I can’t breathe,” he says, instead of hello, and his chest feels like it does when he’s panicking about grades, except worse. This is so much worse.  


“Where are you,” Auston says, and it’s technically a question, but it really doesn’t sound like it.  


“Dorm,” Mitch says, and Auston knows which one, now, so. He doesn’t really have to say more.  


“On my way,” Auston says, softly, and Mitch hangs up, and curls up on his bed, and tries not to think.  


Auston knocks about five minutes later, and when Mitch opens the door, he isn’t ready for the emotion that nearly sweeps him off his feet. He starts to cry, in earnest, and Auston just pulls him into his arms, just hugs him and holds onto him and doesn’t let go.  


“Mitch, let’s go sit, okay?” Auston’s voice is gentle by his ear, and Mitch lets Auston push him towards his bed. He sits, and Mitch curls up into his side, and he just--  


He wants Dylan to live. He wants Dylan to want to live, and he wants Dylan to have a good family, and he wants--he wants so, so many things. So he cries on Auston’s shoulder, because he wants his best friend to be happy, and he wants to have the power to singlehandedly make that happen, but he doesn’t, and he knows he isn’t enough, which is fine, it really is, and he can’t do anything to change it, he knows that, but it also just--really, really hurts.  


Eventually, he thinks Auston maybe gets a little bit scared, because he says, “Mitch? Can you talk to me? What’s going on?”  


“I can’t,” he says, because he can’t exactly call Dylan right now and ask him to tell Dylan’s extremely personal life story because he couldn’t handle anything so he went to Auston Matthews, who he never wanted to see him cry in his life, and like. Yeah. He can’t.  


“Oh, Mitch,” Auston says, and it sounds so sad, and Mitch never wants him to be sad, ever, not if he can help it.  


“It’s--I’m okay, I promise, I am,” he says, and starts to wipe at his eyes.  


But Auston’s hands reach up and take his, and stop his movements. “You’re not,” Auston says, softly, and Mitch’s shoulders sag. “It’s okay that you’re not, and it’s okay that you can’t talk about it. Just--I don’t know, Mitch. I know you aren’t okay, but I want you to be.”  


“Oh,” Mitch says, and he knows he’s physically small, but that’s somehow different from the smallness he feels now. He has always been the one to do the caring, to be the friend, and now--his feelings for Auston don’t even matter, right now. Auston is his friend, and Auston wants him to be okay, and that means Auston cares about him.  


There’s silence, for a while. Mitch lays back and Auston follows, and they stay curled up like that, on Mitch’s bed. Dylan messages and tells Mitch he’s staying with Connor for the night, and then Connor messages to back up what Dylan said, because he knows how Mitch worries.  


Mitch is using Auston’s arm for a pillow and has his fingers curled into Auston’s shirt when he looks up to meet Auston’s eyes and says, “Tell me about Arizona.”  


And so Auston does.  


***  


He doesn’t think the kid that outed him in high school really meant to do any harm.  


He was a freshman, Mitch was a little drunk after a big win his senior year, he was more than a little excited about the scouts coming to see him play, and his tongue must’ve slipped, a little.  


The next day, he walked into homeroom and the entire classroom went dead silent.  


It got worse from there. People whispered about him in the hallway, which was fine, but they also threw things at him, sometimes, and yelled slurs at him in the hallway, and harassed Steph, and tore up his hockey equipment, and--  


He remembers crying every night. He remembers not talking to Chris for weeks at a time, remembers getting home from practice and going right to sleep.  


He remembers blowing any shot he ever had of an NHL Draft Cinderella Story. He stopped eating as much, so his weight went down, so he got bullied off the puck, because he didn’t have the energy.  


Someone from administration found out, but it didn’t matter, and Mitch wasn’t going to out himself again, and the kids harassing him weren’t going to admit why they were doing it, so administration could do nothing. They called his parents, though, and his mom cried when he told her to leave it alone. She knew something was wrong, knew he was a wreck, and wanted to help, but his mom loved him, and there was no way he was risking that. Ever.  


He and Steph broke up because he couldn’t handle how guilty he felt, about putting her through being in a relationship with the Gay Hockey Kid, and sure enough, the moment word spread about their breakup, people started leaving her alone.  


He’d wanted to quit the team, but really, they were probably the only thing that got him through the year. He didn’t go anywhere alone, when they found out how bad it was getting, and they had sleepovers the weekends they didn’t have games, and it was good.  


He graduated with a 4.0, and lettered for hockey.  


It all ended up being fine.  


Mitch is fine.  


***  


His second semester of college suits him better than his first. He comes back to campus from his traditional Christmas, probably about ten pounds heavier. He doesn’t realize he missed it until he’s back, and Dylan slams into him, and yeah, he’s literally never getting a different roommate in his life. He swears this to Dylan, on pain of death.  


“Good,” Dylan says. “I’d be lost without you, you know.”  


“Oh,” Mitch scoffs. “I absolutely know.”  


And then they cuddle on Dylan’s bed and watch the old Christmas movies that are still rerunning, and eat the leftover Christmas cookies Mitch’s mom made, because they’re cool like that.  


And then it’s just--it’s normal. Auston smells like cinnamon when Mitch hugs him, and they go skating three mornings a week, and it’s like there’s never been any space between them, like no time at all has passed.  


Auston still helps him with Spanish, even though he hasn’t needed help with it in a long time. It makes it easier, actually speaking out loud with someone who knows what they’re doing, and Auston seems to know that, so when they’re alone, they speak in Spanish until Mitch starts to get confused, and then switch to English, and Auston laughs at him.  


They’re curled up on the floor of Auston’s dorm, and there are like, five or six textbooks surrounding them, because Mitch is nothing if not extra about his grades.  


When Mitch checks his watch, though, it’s almost six, and he really needs to get food and get back to his dorm. He tells Auston as much, and starts to get up, but then Auston takes in a sharp breath and says, “Shit, Mitchy wait--”  


“What?” Mitch asks, and Auston stands and pulls back his curtain.  


“Brownie texted and said it was snowing pretty hard, so he’s staying put,” Auston says, and sounds almost apologetic.  


Brownie is Connor Brown, Auston’s roommate, and Brownie is also right, because it is snowing very, very hard.  


“Well,” Mitch says, and settles back down. “There go my evening plans.”  


“I have extra food,” Auston offers, and Mitch smiles at him.  


Auston’s extra food turns out to be protein bars and fruit, which is honestly fine, in Mitch’s book. Classes are cancelled tomorrow, too, because the snow isn’t supposed to stop until well into tomorrow afternoon, and that’s honestly completely okay in Mitch’s book.  


He catches Auston staring at him when he laughs at something Auston says, and he says, “What?”  


“Nothing,” Auston says, and looks down, and, oh god, he’s blushing. “You just--when you laugh, you look the way sunshine feels.”  


And Mitch--Mitch has no fucking clue what he’s supposed to do with that.  


He’s never really thought that he’s--well, it’s just, he’s small and he has a nice smile, he thinks, but he isn’t anything--  


“Stop it,” Auston says, quiet and gentle, in his way. “Mitch, I know what you’re thinking. Stop it. Whoever told you that is wrong.”  


Mitch doesn’t really know if anyone told him that. He thinks, maybe, somewhere in the middle of all the taunts and harassment, he just started thinking it all by himself.  


But all he says is, “Auston,” his voice choked and cracking, and when Auston reaches out to touch his cheek, gentle again, Mitch has to lean forward and kiss him.  


He’s terrified, for one moment, that he’s ruined everything. He’s terrified that this is it, he’s fucked up for real, he doesn’t get to be in Auston’s life any more, because he’s totally read this wrong, and Auston’s straight--but then Auston starts kissing back, and then Auston cups Mitch’s face in his hands, and Mitch slides his own hands in Auston’s hair, and oh, god, this is really, really happening.  


“Fuck,” Mitch whispers, against Auston’s lips when he pulls back. “Fuck.”  


“Mitch,” is all Auston whispers back, and he sounds almost reverent. “Mitch, look at me.”  


Mitch opens his eyes--oh, he hadn’t even realized they were closed--and Auston is smiling at him. And then Auston is pressing two soft, soft kisses to his cheekbones, and then touching their lips together again, just barely. Auston tastes like the apple he ate a few minutes earlier, and his mouth is warm and his lips are inviting against Mitch’s, and it’s--it’s not the most perfect kiss, because Mitch’s arm is cramping up a little and Auston isn’t bad but he isn’t out-of-this-world good, either--but it’s Auston. That’s all Mitch cares about, is that it’s Auston.  


“I didn’t think I could have this,” Mitch finds himself admitting out loud, and Auston smiles at him. It’s sort of sad, but that part of it goes away when Mitch kisses him again.  


“You can,” Auston says. “You can absolutely have this.”  


Mitch believes him.  


***  


The first time Mitch’s dad calls, it’s about a month into Mitch’s first semester, and nothing’s really settled in yet. Everyone’s just now getting ready for their first tests, or starting their semester projects, and Mitch is loving it.  


He’d been having dreams of college since he was a kid. It just always fascinated him, and even though applications were much more stressful than he’d ever been told, it had ended up fine. He was going to school an hour away from his parents, which was close enough that he could go home and far enough that he didn’t have to, and it was--it was a really, really nice school. Mitch’d had an eye on it since sophomore year, and with all the scholarships he’d ended up getting--it was a no-brainer, really.  


Mitch loves it more than he thought he would. He’d loved learning in high school, but hated the structure of it, and he’d always thought college would be freedom from that, and it is. It’s what he wanted and more.  


And so Mitch’s dad calls, to see how he’s getting along.  


He’s sitting with Dylan, on the floor between their beds. They’re studying, going over Stats and History in intervals, so they don’t get too bored or too frustrated. Mitch learned to do that pretty quickly in high school, when it turned out that never needing to study and breezing by in every class pretty much went out the window when advanced classes were thrown in the mix.  


Mitch puts his dad on speaker, and doesn’t really have to gesture for Dylan to be quiet, but he does anyways.  


“Mitch,” his dad says, instantly serious instead of telling him hello. “How are those grades? College as hard as I told you it would be?”  


“Um,” Mitch falters, because he’d--he’d hoped, maybe it would be different. “My roommate is cool, Dad, thanks for asking. I really like my classes so far, and I’ve been going to the gym four times a week. Oh, and there’s a rink--”  


“Your mother tells me all these things,” his dad says, brushing it all aside. Mitch feels his face start to burn red, and he can’t look at Dylan. “C’mon, son, be straight with me. What’s your grade in your language class right now?”  


“Linguistics,” Mitch says, softly, and exhales. “I, um, I have a 94.”  


His dad scoffs, and something deep in Mitch’s chest starts to hurt. “Could be a little higher, couldn’t it?”  


“Yeah,” Mitch says, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “Yeah, it--I’ll work on it, Dad.”  


“See to it that you do,” his dad says, and pauses. “I’ll see you next time you visit home, kid.”  


“Yeah,” Mitch can barely get out, and then the call ends, and his phone beeps at him a few times before falling silent, and then fading to black.  


“Mitch,” Dylan says, softly.  


“Don’t.” Mitch’s voice isn’t hard, it’s just tired and choked up. He knows what he sounds like. He’s heard the same voice a thousand times, making the same excuses to Chris, or Cliff, or Steph, or himself.  


“You’re doing really, really good, Mitchy,” Dylan says softly, and closes the book on his lap so he can move closer to Mitch. “You’re so solid right now. I actually don’t even know if Davo’s doing as well as you are.”  


Mitch’s eyes burn.  


“You’re good enough, Mitch,” Dylan whispers, and Mitch almost chokes on the sob he swallows back. “You don’t have to say anything, or like, agree, but you are, in all honesty, and just--” Dylan sighs. “Just come here, please. If you want to.”  


Mitch wants to, so he goes, and throws his legs over Dylan’s lap so Dylan can hug him better. They’ve cuddled enough that they know how this works, and god, Mitch loves Dylan.  


He feels like shit, yeah, but he feel safe in this moment, in his best friend’s arms, knowing that his best friend thinks he’s good enough, and it’s--  


He’s never felt that, he doesn’t think. His dad--it’s always been, you know, do better, be better, you can be more than this, and his mom--she never disagreed. “Well, your father’s right, sweetie, you need to work hard to get where you want to go.”  


She never asked, he doesn’t think, where that was.  


Dylan--Dylan doesn’t care where he wants to go. He’ll follow Mitch the whole way, still walking his own path, checking on Mitch every single day until he’s sure Mitch is happy. Mitch knows this, somehow, and it makes him feel so, so much.  


“Y’know,” Dylan whispers, from where he has his face pressed into Mitch’s hair, “you know--I’m proud of you, Mitchy. Whatever you do.”  


That thing in Mitch’s chest that’d started to hurt when his dad started putting that weight back on his shoulders--it aches, now, but Mitch thinks--  


It’s a good ache. Someone is proud of him, and it hurts, right in that empty spot where his father’s pride should live.  


He doesn’t--can’t--say anything, to that.  


He curls closer to Dylan and fights his tears until he can’t anymore, and hopes, eventually, someone will convince him he’s enough.  


***  


He goes home two weeks before spring break, because that’s when Chris was able to get off, and he never wants to stop hugging his brother once he starts.  


“Missed you, kiddo,” Chris whispers into his shoulder, and it makes Mitch’s heart hurt in the best way.  


He’s been feeling a lot of that, lately. Every time Auston so much as looks at him, every time Dylan smiles at him, every time Connor laughs. He loves them, loves them all so much it hurts, and Mitch wants, more than anything, to tell Chris what that feels like.  


He wants to tell all of them, actually, what that feels like.  


“You look like you have a lot to say,” Chris says, ruffling Mitch’s hair.  


“Yeah,” Mitch says, and ignores the nervousness spiking in his stomach.  


Auston had actually tried to talk him out of this, a little.  


“Mitch,” he’d said, too serious. “I don’t know--my family has never been anything but supportive, okay? And they’ve known for a while now, almost as long as I have. My mom was the first person I told. I don’t know at all what you’re thinking or going through, but I know it can be dangerous, so just like--don’t think you have to do this, or anything. Not for me.”  


He was holding Mitch’s hand while he talked, and Mitch looked down to see the way their fingers fit together, to see how big Auston’s hand was compared to his. He’d let go, but only to trace the lines of Auston’s fingers while he responded.  


“It’s not for you,” Mitch had explained. “It wouldn’t be. Either way, I want to stop being afraid of their reaction, you know? It’s just--it’s like that thing at the bottom of your to-do list that you keep putting off. I mean, for me, at this point, it is. Whatever their reaction, I just want to tell them, and if they don’t want to share my life with me, that’s on them.”  


“If you’re sure,” Auston had said, but he’d started looking less doubtful.  


“I’m sure,” Mitch had said, and nudged Auston down into a kiss.  


He doesn’t really get a chance to say anything until dinner. It’s the first time he’s seen his dad all day, even though he and Chris have been playing video games and screaming at each other pretty much since they got home.  


He picks up on the fact that something’s wrong with his dad, but he thinks, maybe that’s just his dad being normal, because his mom completely ignores it in favor of grilling Chris about his job and his life and the new girl he’s been seeing pretty regularly.  


Mitch knows exactly when the attention’s going to get turned on him, and his extremely educated guess ends up being right, because as soon as his mom is satisfied with her new knowledge of Chris’s life, she turns to him.  


“What about you, sweetheart?” she asks. “How’s college? Have you met anyone else I should know about, yet? Anyone you’re seeing?”  


“I have, and actually, I am,” he says, and it’s quiet, so his mom leans forward, and she has that look on her face, the one that means she wants him to tell her everything. His hands start to shake. “His, uh, his name is Auston.”  


His mom sits back.  


Mitch doesn’t really think he understood the concept of deafening silence before now. It’s not that the silence is uncomfortable, it’s that it’s a physical presence, between he and his family. He catches Chris’s eye, and that presence lessens a little, because Chris gives him a smile--a real one, not strained--and his body is tensed towards their dad, like he’s ready to stand up and push him away from Mitch if needed.  


Because their dad--he’s staring at Mitch. Like he’s really, really looking for the first time, and Mitch really doesn’t know what he’s thinking.  


Until he pushes back his chair and walks away without a word.  


“Oh,” Mitch whispers. He didn’t realize his dad could make him hurt more, and hurt like this, not when he already expected--  


“Mitch, this just--your father and I have been fighting,” his mom says, and reaches out for him, to try to explain. “I’m sorry, baby, this just wasn’t the best time for that.”  


“For what, Mom?” Chris asks, and he sounds angry, but Mitch is already up and out of the room.  


He can’t breathe.  


He’d wanted--he’d just wanted them to--  


Chris is in the doorway of Mitch’s bedroom, and he just says, “I’ll drive you back to campus,” and Mitch realizes he’s started to pack his things. He doesn’t really remember having the conscious thought to do that, he’d just felt so, so hurt, and he’d wanted Dylan, and Auston, and Connor, and the campus that was home--he just wants to go.  


He says as much to Chris, who nods and just sort of watches him for the next thirty seconds it takes him to finish packing.  


They’re on the road in another five minutes.  


“I’m--”  


“Can we not,” Mitch cuts Chris off, because he doesn’t want to hear any apologies, right now. Not from anyone.  


“Okay,” Chris says, and doesn’t sound angry.  


Neither of them talk for the next few minutes.  


“You said his name was Auston,” Chris says, as he comes to a stop at a red light. “Will you tell me about him?”  


“He’s from the desert,” Mitch says, softly, and his eyes fill with tears when he says, “And he loves his mom.”  


***  


When he was fifteen, he remembers waking up in the middle of the night one night. It wasn’t for any particular reason, but he was awake, and then, once he heard the shouting, it was impossible to get back to sleep.  


He doesn’t know how he missed it, before. Every single night, or at least close to it, the week after, and then the week after that, he stayed awake, just to see if they fought.  


They did. They always did.  


He doesn’t know, really, if it ever stopped. He was exhausted, so he couldn’t keep that up, but he’ll always remember--the last night he stayed awake to hear them fight, he remembers his mom saying, softly, like she was crying, “I don’t know what you want me to do, Paul.”  


His dad had paused, before responding, “You’ve done enough, Bonnie. I don’t know what else there is to do.”  


And so, the thing is: it’s not like Mitch doesn’t know his parents aren’t happy together. He does. He knows it so deeply, so intimately, that it feels like everyone else must know, too, except they don’t.  


No one else knew, for a long, long time. Chris was already gone, at that point, and Mitch never even told Steph.  


The first thing he says, to Auston and Connor and Dylan, once he’s stopped crying, is, “I think my mom cheated on my dad.”  


Chris left him, about an hour ago, in Dylan’s care. Auston showed about about thirty seconds later, breathing hard, like he ran to Mitch’s dorm, which he probably did.  


But it’s Connor’s arrival that makes him cry, because Mitch is just trying to breathe, in Auston’s arms, and then Connor knocks on the door, and when Dylan lets him in, and Connor makes a soft noise and reaches out for Mitch, just a little, and that’s what makes him feel like he’s breaking.  


And thing is, he’s known for years, maybe that there was something completely, irrevocably broken in his family. He’s glad Chris got to escape it, but he just--it’s different, to say it out loud. Saying it out loud makes it real, makes it true, makes Mitch see and remember things differently than before. He thinks his memory is a little more true, now.  


It hurts in a different way than Mitch is used to. Saying it makes him feel open, exposed, makes his family feel fake, somehow, as if exposing a crack has made the entire vase shatter.  


Auston pulls Mitch tighter to his chest and Mitch lays his head back on Auston’s shoulder, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Dylan reaches over and grips Mitch’s hand, because he’s Dylan and he always knows what Mitch needs from him.  


They hold onto him, and he holds on right back.  


***  


It’s hard to reconcile.  


He loves his mom, loves her more than life, and acknowledging this, knowing that it happened, is--it’s hard. He stays awake at night, thinking about it, because that’s when he has time to, and he just--doesn’t understand. His mother is one of the most constant things in his life, and he knows, in such a blindingly truthful way, that she stopped being that for his dad, likely years ago.  


It almost seems like an excuse, for everything his dad has said to him, all the weight that’s been put on his shoulders. Mitch knows it isn’t, knows his parents’ marriage problems should have no effect on the love and pride his father should be giving him--Dylan’s told him this, about a thousand times, so he really does know--but it still makes Mitch understand, if only slightly. Things with his parents, they aren’t black and white any more, and that’s--it’s terrifying, and it’s confusing, and he hates facing it.  


And then--  


He doesn’t mean to pull away from Auston, it just sort of--happens.  


He spends nearly every night curled up with Dylan in his bed, and ignores the calls he gets from his mom. He considers blocking her number, just for a little while, so he can have some space, but he doesn’t, because she’s his mom, and he starts hitting the end call button on instinct, as soon as his phone starts to ring. She must get the hint, after a while, because she stops calling.  


His dad doesn’t call at all.  


Chris does, though, and Mitch picks up. They agree that they haven’t been talking as much as they should be, and call every Friday night after dinner. Mitch doesn’t feel like going out much, so it works for both of them.  


He has nightmares, too, sometimes. He thinks they’re mostly borne of anxiety, but he mostly just tries not to think about them.  


He still goes skating with Auston, and still spends most of his nights with him, but Mitch feels himself getting quieter, putting a bit more space between them.  


Until, three days before spring break, Auston pauses kissing him, and whispers, against his lips, “Come home with me for break.”  


Mitch’s hands had been stroking up and down Auston’s back, until then, but he freezes when he processes what Auston’s said.  


“To Arizona?” Mitch has been trying to not think about spring break. Dylan is going home with Connor, because they’ve finally gotten their shit together, but Mitch--he has no idea where he’s going to go. He just knows he doesn’t want to go home.  


“We’ll pay for your ticket,” Auston says, in a rush, as if Mitch will say no. “It’ll be okay, my mom’s already cleared it with everyone--”  


“Aus,” he murmurs, and leans up to kiss his boyfriend, long and slow. “Yes, I’ll come home with you. Of course I will.”  


Mitch is pretty sure the answering smile he gets from Auston is the reason his heart is still beating.  


“You--I just thought you might want a little more space,” Auston whispers, leaning down to kiss Mitch’s neck. “And there won’t really be, at home, so--”  


“I think I’ve had all the space I need,” Mitch says, simply, and he feels Auston smile against his skin.  


He hadn’t meant to pull away from Auston, and he doesn’t want to keep going. He wants to be here, in Auston’s arms, all the time, no matter what’s happening with his family, or his grades, or if the world is ending--he wants to be right here.  


He knows what that means. He knows what that feeling is.  


He tilts Auston’s face up towards his and runs a hand through Auston’s hair. They’re wearing soft, matching smiles on their lips, and Auston presses down against Mitch, just a little more. His blood heats up, and Auston pushes a thigh between Mitch’s legs.  


Mitch is laughing, just a little bit, when Auston kisses him again.  


“Something funny?” Auston asks, biting at Mitch’s mouth, just barely.  


“No, not really,” Mitch whispers, and touches Auston’s cheek with his fingertips. “This is just, like--this is my favorite place in the world.”  


“Yeah? Right here?” Auston leans down and presses their noses together, just gently.  


“Right here,” Mitch confirms, and tugs Auston in to kiss him again.  


***  


Once, when Auston was talking about his mom, he’d told Mitch he felt lucky to love her, that he’d never really felt like he ever needed anyone else, because he had his mom, and that was enough for him.  


As soon as Mitch meets her, he understands.  


They had an late afternoon flight, and had touched down in Arizona about an hour, Arizona-time, after they’d left. Mitch isn’t too tired, surprisingly, but maybe that’s the espresso he had before their flight.  


That’s only part of the reason his hand shakes in Auston’s, though, and Auston seems to know that, so he squeezes Mitch’s hand tighter. They make their way through the airport fairly quickly, and it isn’t too busy, either, so Auston’s father spots them in no time. He’s the one picking them up, but they’ll meet everyone else at Auston’s house.  


Auston’s dad is quiet. He hugs Auston for a long time, and then shakes Mitch’s hand and asks him about school. They make small talk on the drive, and it’s so, intensely clear to Mitch how much Auston loves his dad. He sits in the back with Mitch, though, and when Auston’s dad sees them holding hands, he smiles.  


And then Mitch meets Ema Matthews, and she is warmth personified. She wraps him in a hug the moment she sees him, even before she hugs Auston, just folds him into her arms like she wants to protect him from everything.  


She doesn’t even--she doesn’t even know him.  


“Our home is your home, Mitch, while you’re here,” she whispers to him, and gives him a squeeze before moving to hug Auston.  


He loves her instantly.  


It hurts.  


In that same place, deep in his chest, that starts to ache when he talks to his dad. Pain flares up, sharp and sudden, and, like he senses it, Auston looks up from where he has his head pressed into his mom’s shoulder.  


He reads the look on Mitch’s face in seconds, and says, “Mom, hey, I missed you, but we’re tired, so we’re probably going to nap for an hour or so, okay?”  


“Okay, sweetie,” Ema says, sounding slightly confused. Mitch feels bad instantly. If she’s missed Auston half as much as he’s missed her, he knows he’s taking something from her, in a way. “Your sisters should be back in a few hours, and then we’ll have dinner. Sound good?”  


She looks over at Mitch, too, for an answer, and he manages a smile. Her expression breaks, a little, with sadness--for him, Mitch realizes. He knows Auston’s mentioned some things about his parents to his mom, because she is essentially his best friend, and Auston is careful to tell him what he tells his mom about Mitch’s life, just because Auston’s considerate about shit like that, and Mitch guesses it makes things a little easier for them, right now.  


He starts crying pretty much the instant Auston shuts them in his bedroom, and Auston pulls him close, running his hands up and down Mitch’s back, whispering, “I’m sorry, Mitchy, I’m sorry, it’s alright, babe,” and that just makes Mitch cry harder, because it isn’t alright, but he knows Auston knows that, and that he’s just trying to help, but Mitch just--he can’t, right now, so he just cries into Auston’s chest, and tries to reconcile the new love he feels for Ema Matthews with how much it hurts that the love isn’t for his parents.  


Auston shepherds him to his bed--queen-sized--and Mitch curls into him, once he’s calmed down a little more.  


Auston has Coyotes hockey posters on the walls of his bedroom, and pictures of his family everywhere. Framed, taped to the wall, pinned to his bed.  


Mitch wishes he had that.  


“My mom is a lot sometimes,” Auston says, quietly, almost like he’s apologizing again.  


“She’s perfect,” Mitch whispers, and Auston props himself up on an elbow to look down at Mitch.  


“Yeah?” There’s a little smile on Auston’s face, and Mitch knows that smile. It’s the smile Dylan gives him when he says he loves Connor--the smile of someone who is desperately glad two people he loves could love each other.  


“Yeah, Aus,” Mitch says, and leans his head against Auston’s chest. “She’s, like, sunshine in human form.”  


“I know,” Auston says, and his voice is so gentle when he adds, “You’re safe here, you know. I mean, like--this can be your home, if you want, just for right now. Or, um, however long you want to stay.”  


Mitch kisses Auston’s chest, and then reaches up to kiss his lips.  


“I think I’ll stay for a while, if that’s okay,” he whispers, and the way Auston kisses him tells him that it is.  


***  


The Matthews family has a fire pit, but apparently Arizona is literally melting right now, so they can’t use it, for genuine risk of starting a massive fire.  


That’s fine by Mitch. He doesn’t really need any more heat, right now, pressed against Auston, watching the sun set in weather that has to be at least 80 degrees, still.  


Ema had asked about his grades, earlier--she had insisted he call her Ema--and when he told her he was holding onto a 4.0, the first thing she’d said was that she was proud of him. He’d stammered out a thank you and accepted the kiss Auston had pressed to his cheek.  


Brian had helped Ema cook, which--Mitch offered to help, because he’d always helped at home, but Ema had said they wouldn’t need it, and they didn’t. Auston explained, softly, that they’d cooked together since they’d started dating. Mitch had watched Auston’s parents move around each other in their kitchen, so natural and flawless and fitting, and that had hurt, too, but it was okay, Mitch was starting to think.  


And then Auston’s sisters came home, and Breyana had immediately started chirping Auston for his haircut, and Mitch liked her instantly. Alex was a little quieter, and Mitch sort of felt like he was being appraised, but that was okay, too. He understood why, and understood that she loved Auston, if in a quieter way than her sister, and he sort of thought she understood that he loved Auston, too, because she’d smiled at him before she made her way into the kitchen to kiss her parents.  


“Do you like it here?” Auston asks, and Mitch smiles. Auston is so obviously overjoyed to be home, and so obviously loves it here more than words, and Mitch thinks he’d love it if he hated it.  


“Yes,” he says instead, and Auston smiles at him, so he adds, “You love it here. That’s sort of infectious.”  


Something in Auston’s expression changes, goes a little softer and a little more intense at the same time, somehow, and he says, “I love you, Mitch.”  


Mitch forgets how to breathe, so he grabs for Auston’s shirt and pulls him into a kiss.  


Auston pulls away after a minute, and starts to say, “You don’t have to say it back, if you--”  


“I love you too,” Mitch interrupts. “Shut up, okay? I love you too, oh my god.”  


“Really?” Auston sounds overjoyed, like a kid at Disney, and Mitch can’t help but laugh.  


“Really, Auston, I pinky promise,” Mitch says, and he’s pretty sure there are happy tears in Auston’s eyes.  


“I want you to be happy,” Auston whispers, and Mitch laces their fingers together, because god, how did he get so lucky. “I know things are hard right now, but I want you to be happy.”  


Mitch loves Auston so, so much.  


He presses a kiss underneath Auston’s jaw and says, “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi. again, hope u enjoyed. i love yall so much for reading this.
> 
> im on tumblr at bisexualnylander if u wanna chat. ❤️


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